


fang-smiling and red warm eyes

by saturnsage



Category: Stellamore (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 14:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnsage/pseuds/saturnsage
Summary: Because snow. Because hunts.Taqtu, Ijiraat.





	fang-smiling and red warm eyes

**Author's Note:**

> me: *strums my electric guitar* i love you bitch
> 
> taqtu: :)
> 
> me: and im never gonna stop loving you bitch
> 
> taqtu: :)

Because snow. Because hunts. Because of the heat of it all, like he can run across three worlds with one jump. All the molten-bites of furs, the lead of a warm silence of many. Because that is who he is, who he was, and who he will ever be.   
  
Taqtu, Ijiraat, who is his people and his people are him.  
  
 Taqtu, Ijiraat, and proud and loved and loving, who can shape himself into any crevice of the world and be sure that he will fit.

He does not write letters. Instead, he sings. To the forgotten vines in the palace, the sky smaller than the ones he had grown under, and to himself, knowing that it will be heard.   
  
 _My home,  
_ _  
My family,  
  
_ _Those to whom I love,  
  
_ _I know that you will treat the hunt well.  
_  
He wakes early, ripe and bursting and burning with the suns, tall and towering and strong. Almost like his father, not quite there yet. He clads on his clothing like he’s dressing for another camp, for another chase. This particular chase is different, but it is one that was overdue for it’s end.   
  
Peace belongs to Saiph, and Saiph shall have it. A world in balance, who gave birth to he and him, and he will return it’s kindness with a little of his own, here in this city with it’s small skies.  
  
   _For you are as smart as you are fast, and the elderly will never leave you behind.  
_  
As he walks out of a bedroom bigger than a bedroom has any right to be, he stalks in search for that one particular princeling who knows everything, and yet nothing at all.   
  
Cipactli is a kind, elegant elf. Taqtu could break him in half with one hand, but he would never. Instead, he breaks him in half with hugs, with words that Cipactli knows from only books, with the overbrimming love that Taqtu carries and brandishes like a spear, like a medal.   
  
For no one shall leave another alone: for no one shall leaving someone sleeping in the snow.   
  
 _I also know that when I return, peace finally found in our lands, you will be delighted in the gifts I will bring.  
  
_ Taqtu, Ijiraat, who wears his heart on the outsides of his body and teaches others to do so as well. Whose hands know how to skin a fish just as well as how to hold a bow, whose voice knows the languages of the birds and hares, just as well as it knows songs to be sung to a fire.   
  
He will sit in a table with people he doesn’t know, with propositions that may be accepted or denied, with nothing but the belief that what he is doing is good, and is well.  
  
 _Remember that I think of you all dearly, and it will not be long until I will be traveling with you once more.  
  
_ As he walks down a stairway, he sings once again. This time it is under his breath, low and lullabied. A song about a fox who had wandered too far from her home, and jumped to the stars, to let them take her back.   
  
Someone walks past, small, with their chin tucked down, their eyes averted. They wear clothing that he hasn’t seen before, and there’s a certain animalness to their presence. Something raw, something yearning, something that seeks. Human _._  
  
Before he can stop himself, he taps their shoulder lightly, and they stumble their head up, and crane their neck, eyes wide and expression unreadable. Taqtu smiles, teeth sharp, with Common in his tongue.   
  
“Head up, thinker,” He says, welcoming and warm and everything his people taught him, “You might lose your way.”   
  
Humans are small things that Taqtu had never met. From what he heard, they are creatures of play, forced to become creatures of war. What a terrible thing for something whose purpose is to live in a careless way, and stamped to something that’s intimate with death.   
  
The human blinks, and Taqtu thinks offhandedly:  _pretty._  He crosses his arms. Then, the human laughs, more huffs of air than a laugh.   
  
“Alright. Thank you for the advice…uh,”   
  
“Taqtu,” He offers. The human nods.  
  
“Taqtu.”   
  
They look at each other for a second longer than what Taqtu expected, and he clears his throat, and looks down to the hallway. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling,” He says, instead, because silence  of this kind is not his favorite silence, no. “A human in the middle of all this.”   
  
“If I guess correctly, you aren’t very close to your own home either.” They reply smoothly. Animalness in their scent, that strange look in their posture which makes humans look like they’re always pushing for something. They would make terrible hunters.   
  
Taqtu drops his smile, and sighs. He is far from home, yes. Far from the rolling plains and the brushes iced with frost, from the mountains big enough to lick the moon and the clouds, from the biting cold that feel more like kisses. He is far from his people, from their warm hands and warmer companionship and even warmer fires.   
  
This city does not need fires. It is too hot, too humid. There are too many plants, too many people.   
  
 _But in the meantime, be as swift as the wolf, as mighty as the bear, as slick as the seal. Be as proud as I am with you.  
  
_ “You guess right,” He says, and looks over the human. They are built much like an elf, or like a Jotün. Except there is no sharpness, no keening of an elf, no darkness and fear of a Jotün. They are much rounder, and look as if they are built to bruise their knees from climbing trees, instead of being cut. Humans: creatures of play indeed.  _Pretty._    
  
“It will all be worth it, however. Soon peace will finally be found.” Taqtu rushes out.   
  
The human brightens at that, and their hands flutter up and down in the excitement. “Oh, I should hope so! What an honor to be here, standing in history being made!” They twitter, voice light and airy and happy.   
  
It is so different than what Taqtu had first seen, that he laughs, loudly and content.   
  
“I like that smile, thinker.” He says, because being honest is good. “You definitely won’t get lost wearing it.”   
  
The human blinks again, and opens their mouth in a small ‘o’. And then they smile again, and their skin grows pink around their cheeks. Taqtu thinks for the third time:  _Pretty._  
  
“Thank you,” They say, voice quieter. “I…will consider it.” He uncrosses his arms, and presses a comforting hand on their shoulder, and winks.   
  
“Then I’ll see you later, smiler. If, of course, you’ll let me?”  The human tilts their head, encouraging him to go on. He hums. “You seem like someone who’d be interesting to talk to.”   
  
The pink deepens into something akin to red, much to Taqtu’s amusement.   
  
“I….well. I don’t see why not.” They answer, and Taqtu sighs in contentment. It will be a good story when he returns home. A song about a human whose  thinking and smiling made Taqtu want to befriend them.  “But I must hurry on now, Mukondi is waiting for me. Uhm..it was nice to meet you!” They say, seemingly flustered. Taqtu releases them and steps back, letting them go. He waves as they bounce off, and they look back once, smiling, before disappearing down the glittering hallway.   
  
 _I will have many stories to tell. I will have many new stars to point out at night.  
  
_ Because wars long ended. Because peace newly beginning. Because of glass greenhouses carrying birds with strange calls. Because Cipactli with his pet crocodile and ambitious plans. Because of home, so far and so beloved. Because Taqtu, high and brazen, who carries his strength in one hand and his kindness in another, as he was taught. Because of futures told and untold.   
  
Taqtu, Ijiraat, hoping and knowing that all will go well.   
  
Taqtu, Ijiraat, shape-shifter. He will shift into whatever space Saiph asks of him and he will do so well, and willingly.  
  
 _With all of my warmth and care, Taqtu._


End file.
